Playing for Keeps
by Tired and Inspired
Summary: Jolie Finnigan doesn't have a real mother, and honestly, she likes it that way. Her dad is good enough, and he takes care of her. She doesn't want her stupid, nosy mother sticking her nose in Jolie's life, especially after she went out of her way to get out of it. To add onto her mother's drama, Jolie finds herself doing something she promised she'd never do-falling in love.


Prologue: Sister 

_"Sister, sister, what did they do to you?" _

_-"Sister", the Black Keys_

* * *

Rain pounded down on the desolated street like bullets, smacking hard into the ground with an echo. Those who were out before had fled for shelter, protecting themselves from the stinging droplets of water. Children had left their toys out, buckets that were meant for sand now filled with the heavy rain. The hidden sun was setting behind the horizon, letting twilight take over when a crack of thunder rumbled throughout the sky. A bolt of lightning flashed dangerously, contrasting heavily with the dark blue-grey clouds. The fog settled among the little town houses like a big, suffocating blanket. A feeling of great despondency had settled over the little British town.

Through the fog, however, a tiny figure concealed in a bright red jacket hurried down the abandoned street. The crimson hood was pulled over her shiny black curls, but they cascaded down her shoulders and over her chest, she walked with such vigor that they continued to furiously bounce. Her arms wrapped tightly around her middle, as if she would crumble and fall apart without the extra and support.

Dirty water splashed underneath her black boots as she made a sharp turn, strutting up a stone walk-way. Once under the protection of the doorway, she pulled on the hood, revealing her dismayed yet striking features. The deep blue eyes, usually entrancing and stunning, looked worn and tired, and the deep dark bags under her eyes did no justice for her. With a troubled sigh, the women timidly raised her fist to the door, knocking at first gently then applying more pressure. Before she could knock again, the door swung open, disclosing an equally beautiful and similar woman, though she bore almost black eyes, rather than blue. Those eyes filled with brief shock, quickly replaced with disgust. The woman moved to slam the door in her face. "Wait, Isabelle!" cried the fair-eyed woman.

The dark eyed woman, Isabelle, opened the door only just, letting her cold expression peek through. "Why should I? I believe it was made very clear to you, not only by me but others as well, that you were never welcome back here," a look a deep regret and shame spread on the fair-eyed woman's face, "you have you impulsiveness and poor judgment to thank for that."

Once more, Isabelle went to slam the door, but the other woman jammed her foot in-between the door and the doorframe. Pushing it open, she tried to hold back her tears and remain clam. These reactions, she had predicted them; mentally prepared herself for them. "Would you just let me explain? Isabelle, please, I have come to apologize. I came to acknowledge and accept my mistakes, and I was hoping you could accept them too," Isabelle looked at her with a stony cold expression, "I have realized my fallacy, and I need you all to forgive me to move past it."

Isabelle's expression remained rigid, but she did not attempt to close the door on the woman before her. That, the fair-eye woman hoped, was a sign that she was taking her proposal into consideration. Isabelle sighed reluctantly. "Fine, do what you must, but make it quick. We'll be leaving soon enough."

Ecstatic, the fair-eyed woman nodded. Isabelle opened the door for her to enter, and she did, slipping out of her crimson jacket, hanging it up. "Mother, father," Isabelle hollered up the stairs, "can you come downstairs for a moment?" she shot the other woman a look, "Sophia is here," she managed in a less confident voice.

It seemed that, not to Sophia's surprise, that those words had an effect on the entire house. Everything seemed darker, like every bit of joy that was ever in the large home slipped out. Silence encased the area for a few brief moments, though to the two girls standing in the entryway it lasted an eternity. Footsteps followed the silence, as an elegant looking woman walked down the stairs, taking her dear time with each step. Her dark eyes traveled to Sophia, taking in her presence with a look of abhorrence and ignominy. It was too far off from the look Isabelle had previously given her.

At last, the older woman landed on the bottom step, eyeing up Sophia. Her hair, once full and flaxen, had grayed slightly, and was pulled back into a tight bun that looked nearly painful. She had gracefully slipped into older age, Sophia noticed. No wrinkles had made their way onto her face, no marks, and no stress lines. Perhaps she owed that to her elder daughter. "Sophia," she addressed the woman before her with the upmost loathing her voice.

"Mother," she retorted, trying her hardest to keep the malice out of her throaty voice. "Is father at home?" she questioned. Her mother, she had little hope of swaying, but she knew her father would cave into her pleas for forgiveness, eventually dragging her mother down as well.

Her mother scoffed. "Of course you insolent girl, otherwise your sister wouldn't have called from him," she eyed her oldest daughter, "Unlike yourself, Isabelle has managed to inherit some of our wit. How unfortunate it is to have one child out of two possess common sense."

Sophia took a step forward, pointing her finger at her mother as the rain slammed against the house. "I did not come here to be insulted, and I am _not_ a girl anymore. I do not have to take this from you."

"If you came not expecting this you shouldn't have come at all," Isabelle spoke, glaring at her sister, just a few years her senior. "Mother is only speaking the truth." There it was that undying family loyalty that seemed to have skipped over Sophia.

Lethal glares were exchanged between the two sisters. "I was expecting hostility, especially from mother," Sophia half glanced at the woman, who now wore a slight smirk, "but I expected that towards my choices, not blows to my personality and wit; that I deserve none of. Yes, I admit many of my past decisions were extremely poor, and I regret them immensely. So go ahead, insult me and my impulsive choices, but not my intelligence. A sagacious woman can still make a mistake, no matter how grave."

It was not the first time Sophia had stood up to her mother, but it was the first time she had silenced her completely. That silence, the stillness remained while the three women waited for the man of the house to come down. Another eternity passed, followed by another. What her father could possibly be doing puzzled Sophia. It's not like there was much work to do around the house, no, they has servants to do for that.

Finally, footsteps could be heard once more as her father carefully made his way down the steps, moving almost at a sloth-like speed. Sophia noticed the slight limp in his leg, dread flooded through her. How had that happened? The aged man looked up at his daughter, a flash of pure joy made its way across his face when his blue eyes met Sophia's own, and she was sure her face matched his. They had always been close, despite the differences between Sophia and her mother. The look of joy passed, however, and it seemed that her father remembered why this was his first time seeing her in a long time.

"I thought I'd never see you again," the tone was not a happy, like the words might usually be in. They weren't exactly bitter, or angry. They were more…empty.

She nodded, looking down at her black boots. "I came to talk to all of you, and I suppose I want to explain my past choices, why I made them and I thought they were okay. When I'm done, I plan to beg for your forgiveness and acceptance, only once I've finished though," she added quickly once her mother shot her a look of doubt. "Perhaps you'll understand more."

"Elizabeth," her father said to her mother, "Why don't we go in the sitting room, all of us, and talk," he said once he saw the disbelieving and angered look on her face. "Maybe Sophia will have a good explanation, and if not it'll be a good story."

This was just why Sophia had loved her father dearly; he would give her a chance, he just _gave _her a chance. If it had just been her mother, Sophia wouldn't have even bothered coming. The four of them made their way in the sitting room; Sophia took a seat on the arm chair while the other three settled comfortably on the couch. Back when Sophia was at school, just a silly teenager, she would have thought this an act of neglect. Now, however she knew it to be as simple as her mother and sister didn't want her, and her father had no choice but to side with them. Neglect had nothing to do with it; rather genuine dislike.

"You said you wanted to talk, so talk," Isabelle snapped, crossing her arms over as her eyes roamed over her sister's face dangerously.

With a heavy sigh, Sophia adjusted on the giant arm chair, making herself comfortable. "I believe that, throughout my entire childhood, I thought myself to be somewhat of a rebel. Now I know it to be just the naïve, childish state of mind I once had. Mother, you knew from the start that I was up to no good, though it has taken me all these years to come to this realization.

"I tried my hardest to differentiate myself from the rest of you, wanting to be as different as possible. I separated myself from your beliefs and I joined the other side when our side was falling apart," Sophia needed not to specify; they all knew what she was talking about. From the stone cold expressions, they were not happy at the mention of it. "The only thing I regret more than that was thinking that I was in love with someone who was entirely wrong for me.

"He was loud, boastful, and tactless, not to mention a half-blood. He was everything I knew you, Mother, would dislike. At the time, my desire to break away was so strong that this was what I had been attracted to. Over the time, I believed myself to actually be in love with him. Now I confess, I had never been more wrong, but I cannot stress how fatuous I was back then. Eloping was the worst decision of my life, especially at such a young age. The war was going on, and we believed that if we weren't going to make it through, we should at least be wed first.

"It took five years for us to settle down in a house, for both of us to find stable jobs and pay off all the bills. We were doing well, but I was starting to become unhappy. Nothing was going wrong, but my teenage foolishness was wearing off, and the excitement of being with someone my family disapproved of had worn off. I begin to wonder if I had even loved him in the first place. He loved me dearly, however, and I believe he still does. I was not willing to risk everything I had just yet, so I went on pretending to be a good wife.

"Two years later, I got news that most married woman would consider miraculous, but it put me in distress. I was bearing his child. Unfortunately, when I agreed to run away and marry him, I had never even thought of having children. I didn't even know he_ wanted_ children. It was only when I discovered the life of this child that I remembered he was a half-blood, that my child would be a half-blood. It filled me with repugnance to think something with Muggle blood was _inside of me_.

"Despite the fact he was absolutely rapt about the news, I told him I wasn't having this child. I was twenty-seven at the time, far too young for children. We fought and fought about, for so long that it was at the point where it was too late for me to get rid of it. At this point I had no choice, I was going to have his child; his_ filthy_ half-blood child. We had come to a reasonable solution, however. Once the child was born, he would get her and I would leave, go off on my merry way. He said his love for me disappeared when I wanted to get rid of his baby girl."

There was silence, and Sophia's company was shocked, to say the least, at the bitterness in her voice. Sophia was never better towards anyone, or at least the Sophia they knew. On the flip side, the Sophia they knew didn't believe that someone was _bad_ because of their blood status, like the rest of the family did. Never had the words _filthy half-blood _left Sophia's lips before this day, to the best of their knowledge. Maybe she really had changed for the better.

Too many times since her visit, Sophia had been made uncomfortable about her family's ability to express their feelings, their words to her. Hatred, bitterness, hostility-that she could handle; it was the silence that killed her. "He named the girl Jolie Anne Finnigan," Sophia said, breaking the silence once more. "What a terrible choice on his part. Jolie is the name for a harlot, not a young innocent girl. It's no matter, though," she said with a light shrug, "I don't exactly care what becomes of the girl."

Silence encompassed them once again, and Sophia was determined to wait until one of the others would talk before she said anything. She didn't have to wait long though, before Isabelle decided to speak up. Though her expression remained stoic, she regarded her older sister with a look of pity in her eyes. "Sister, what have they done to you?"

Shocked by this response, Sophia raised her eyebrows and looked carefully at her sister. "Clearly, you were brainwashed by those bloodtraitors," her mother said the word as if it were a horrible, rotten disease, "You were perfectly fine until you went to that school. Certainly I won't have another one going there."

"I believe he plans on sending our child there, Mother," Sophia said calmly, keeping her voice even. Her father, who had yet to say a thing, looked at her like he was disappointed. She ignored it. "He can do whatever he wants with her, though, so I wouldn't fret with it."

There was a look exchanged between her mother and Isabelle, before her mother let out a heavy sigh. "There is no need to beg for our forgiveness at this point. Many mistakes were made on your part, and it's has been troubling to not only me, but to the entire family for all these years. I am not sure I can forgive you, but I will try to, say, _let it go_. You can stay here with us until you are back on your feet again."

"Maybe if you're lucky," Isabelle said with a slight grin, "you'll find a good-looking pureblood that just doesn't care about your past."

Oh, how the idea filled Sophia with joy. It was very unlikely, though, everyone in the room knew that. The only pureblood who would ever care that Sophia had married and bore a child with a half-blood would be a bloodtraitor, and after what she did to him she doubted any bloodtraitor would want her at that point. Oddly enough, Sophia didn't exactly mind the idea of being alone. After all, the last time she was in 'love' didn't work out so well.

"Well, I'm in the mood for a cup of tea. Shall we?" her father said in a disgruntled voice, pushing himself off of the couch and making his way towards the kitchen, her mother in tow.

Sophia stood to follow the two, but her arm was grasped by Isabelle. A wide grin was on Isabelle's face as she leaned close to her sister. "This may be the wrong thing to ask," she whispered into her ear, "but about the half-blood, he wasn't all that bad looking. Was he a good shag?" Sophia couldn't help but let out some giggles at her sister's expense. Of course that had been the thing she wanted to ask. With a grin of her own, Sophia nodded. "Nice," her sister praised.

"Girls! Are you coming?"

"Yes mother," the responded in unison, linking arms and walking towards the kitchen together, like they had never been separated.

One thing's for sure, that went far easier than Sophia had expected. The lies came easily out of her mouth, and her stupid ignorant family believed them.

* * *

Seamus Finnegan sat at his kitchen table, head in his arms while his best friend, Dean, patted his back. "I can't believe it, I just can't believe her," Seamus had muttered into his arms for what seemed like the billionth time that hour. Dean just nodded his head in understanding, he couldn't believe her either. "After all these years, she never showed any sign of...of-"

"Of being who she really is," Dean offered, taking a seat next to his long time best friend. He placed his hand on Seamus's arm, his coffee color contrasting heavily with Seamus's pale Irish tone. "No one saw this coming, this isn't your fault. It's no one's fault but hers," Dean tried to keep the malice out of his as he spoke of this woman, but she completely ruined Seamus, tore him apart and left him with a baby girl. He couldn't help but be a bit bitter.

These words would have broken Seamus's heart, had it not already been annihilated. "It is her fault, for doing what she did, but part of this is also my fault," he looked up at Dean, his blue eyes were bloodshot, the rims red as could be. Seamus had never cried before, not to Dean's knowledge. "I should have known, you think I would have known. I've lived with her for almost nine years, I believe. I was too blinded to see that, to see that she wasn't who she claimed to be. Now it's my fault Jolie won't have a mother."

Dean went livid at his words, not exactly pleased with Seamus for blaming himself, but the majority of his angry was directed at the woman who did this. "You cannot blame yourself because your wife is a bloody _bigot _and pretended all this time to be okay with who you are. It's _her _fault," Dean went on, ignoring Seamus mummer the word _'ex-wife_.' "There's nothing you could have done to prevent this from happening. She is the reason Jolie won't know her mother, she's the reason for all of this. If I _ever _hear you blame yourself again, I'll beat you with a pan, you hear me?"

Tears once again started to brim in Seamus's eyes. "I-I," he struggled to finds words, his eyes lost, "I just can't believe her," he finally managed, putting his face back in his hands. Dean went back to his position of comforting him, placing his hand firmly on Seamus's shoulder.

"Right now, it's okay that you're feeling this distress, this pain, but soon enough you're going to have to suck it up, for Jolie. She's just an infant, with only one parent; she needs you to be a good one," Seamus gave his friend and unreadable expression, eyes still filled with un-spilled tears, "She needs you, and you can't let this thing with Sophia take that away from her."

With a hard nod, Seamus stood and turned his back on Dean. "I'm going to see her, Jolie. She's in the other room sleeping, if you want to come," Dean nodded, following Seamus as he pushed through the door, entering the tiny little room, where a crib was hidden in the corner of the room.

The two men made their way towards the crib, peering down at the little bundle inside of it. "She looks just like you," Dean mumbled, watching the infant sleep peacefully, completely unaware of what her mother had just done. "She's beautiful."

Reaching his hands down, Seamus scooped up his still sound asleep daughter and held her close in his arms. He placed a soft kiss on her forehead, listening to her soft, steady breathing. She was warm in his hold, and as he held he felt his heart mend a bit. He couldn't help but softly smile at the baby girl in his arms. "She has Sophia's eyes, though. They're brighter than mine, like crystals. Beautiful, you're right, they're beautiful."

"Why did you name her Jolie? I would have expected something more Irish," Dean half-joked, sending his friend a small grin, which he returned.

Seamus shrugged. "I like the name Jolie, and I wanted to pick something I was absolutely certain Sophia wouldn't pick," Seamus whispered before looking up at Dean. "She told me before she left that she wanted her daughter to have a proper name, like Mathilda, or Persephone," he pulled a face. "Her top choice was Calliope Ophelia. Can you imagine? Calliope Ophelia Finnigan. That has to be the most ridiculous name I've ever heard in my life. Makes me shudder just to think about it."

His friend laughed along with him. "That would be something. I can't imagine naming my kid something like they, it's like setting them up to be bullied," he paused, and put on his thinking face. "Harry had a kid this year too, do you wanna know what he named 'em?"

"Knowing Harry, it was probably something totally sappy."

A smile etched its way onto Dean's face. "_Albus Severus. _That's his child's name. I knew he was close to Dumbledore, but he never really even liked Snape, despite what he did for him. Don't you think it's a bit odd for him to name his child after someone who he absolutely loathed until the last minute of his life?"

"I dunno, maybe, but I definitely know that Harry was too sentimental with his kid and now he's going to have to live with it for the rest of his life."

Dean managed a chuckled, but after that no words were exchanged as the watched the sleeping infant. Seamus remembered the warning his father had once given him about children. One day you're holding them in your arms, and the next they're off getting married. He couldn't even imagine Jolie getting interacting with a boy, never mind getting _married. _He didn't want his daughter to have the same heartbreak he had, and whatever boy thought he was worthy enough for her was going to have to go through one hell of a test.

"Do you think she'll be alright?" Seamus mumbled, watching Jolie intently.

"Yeah, with you, she'll be just fine."

* * *

**This took _forever _to write. And by forever, I mean three days. And this is just the prologue.**

**Please tell me what you think. I've worked so hard on it and it's going to take a lot of work to write this. I wanted to know I have readers if I'm going to be putting that much effort into it. **

**Obviously, this is an Albus P/OC story. I'm hoping it's not the typical story that everyone is tired of hearing. I have to give credit to , for being my inspiration for this story. I can assure you I'm not copying her ideas or plagarizing or anything, she's just my favorite Harry Potter next generation author and I wanted to give her credit. If you haven't read her story _Left Unsaid _read it now please because it's perfect and I love it. **

**Anyways, thank you for reading the prologue and I hope you enjoy this story. I'm not sure when the next one will be up, it'll take a while to write (approx. 3-4 days) and it depends on how much feedback I get to motivate me. So review! I love and treasure them! **


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